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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998139">stumbling and spinning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab'>lady_mab</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>No Spooky Archives!AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, no spooky archives, ot3 and nothing hurts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:13:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998139</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.” </p><p>“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.” </p><p>It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” [...]</p><p>“You have to admit, Jon has great tastes,” Gerry teases.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>No Spooky Archives!AU [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1737265</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>579</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stumbling and spinning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Go on like we belong together<br/>Two sinking bodies and their bones<br/>There’s a little piece of me that’s always somewhere else<br/>But I’m right where I belong<br/>I’m right where I belong<br/>- san fermin, "<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8oLdmyU3YA">belong</a>"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin stared at the ID of the missed call his entire walk back from the station. There’s a voicemail, and his thumb hovers over the button that will play it. </p><p><em>It’s just a voicemail</em>, he tries to tell himself. <em>How much can it hurt if you aren’t actually talking to her</em>?</p><p>The answer is <em>quite a lot</em>, and he ends the call so fast that he forgets to delete the voicemail. </p><p>Frustration and anxiety and exhaustion mount with each step he takes up the stairs, until the tears are burning behind his eyes and his internal mantra becomes a loop of <em>don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry</em> to drown out the sound of her voice still in his head. </p><p>The door to the apartment opens just as he’s reaching for it, and he finds himself staring into Gerry’s startled face. </p><p>“I was just going out to get dinner—” Gerry starts, taking a half-step back to let Martin in. But then he hesitates and deposits his keys back onto the side table. “What happened?” </p><p>Martin is still trying so hard to not cry that he’s afraid of opening his mouth, so he shakes his head instead. </p><p>Gerry takes his hands and leads him inside, kicking the door shut behind them. “Okay. Okay, let’s… Come on. You’re home now, so it’s okay to let yourself be not okay.” </p><p>His breath hitches, dangerously close to a sob, but he’s determined to not let the sound of her voice win this round. “I just. A missed call. My mum—” </p><p>Despite not knowing the full story, he knows enough to understand just what this means, and Gerry bundles him in for a tight hug. “Alright. It’s okay.” </p><p>It isn’t, but Martin appreciates the sentiment all the same. “I thought it would be fine to just <em>listen</em>—”</p><p>“No, fuck her, you don’t need to listen to anything she says.” Gerry grips his shoulders, and that helps, giving Martin solid points of contact to pull himself back together. </p><p>“I…” He doesn’t know how to say that a part of him will always hear what she says—how a small part in his head still has her voice. So instead he plucks his phone from his pocket and holds it out. </p><p>Gerry glances to it, then back to Martin. “I’m not going to listen to whatever she thinks she has to say—” </p><p>“No, I didn’t… I didn’t get to delete it. I don’t even want to look at it right now.” </p><p>Gerry makes a soft sound in understanding. He takes the phone, already knowing the passcode to unlock it. “What’s your voicemail code?” </p><p>Martin gives it to him as Gerry fetches a glass of water. </p><p>“Small sips,” he instructs, pressing it into Martin’s hands, then promptly focuses his attention on deleting the voicemail. “I will block her number for you.” </p><p>“No… Besides, she uses the care house’s landline. I can’t… In case…” Martin can’t finish the thoughts, because he doesn’t know how he wants the sentence to end, so he takes sips of water instead. </p><p>Gerry has an expression that means he is very seriously debating if he wants to ignore Martin’s reasoning or not. But then he places the phone down on the counter and lets his hands settle on Martin instead. “You’re too nice.” </p><p>“I think she would rather die out of spite than have the care home call Jon even if he is the second point of contact if I can’t be reached.” Martin finishes his water, but keeps his hold on the cup for something to focus on. “It’s fine. It’s fine!” </p><p>Perhaps saying it often enough will make it true.</p><p>(It never does, but he tries every time anyway.) </p><p>Gerry’s hand is a reassuring weight on his forearm, the fingers of the other hand warm where they wrap around his wrist, keeping his grip on the cup steady. “You alright?” </p><p>Martin hesitates, considering, before giving an ambivalent shrug. “Not really.” </p><p>It’s Gerry’s turn to hesitate. “Jon will be home soon—” </p><p>With a huff that is more sigh than sob, Martin leans down to press his forehead to Gerry’s shoulder. “I’m not going to wait for him to be here to calm down.” </p><p>The arms shift, and before Martin can pull back or apologize, Gerry’s arms loop comfortably around him, pulling him in closer for a hug. “I didn’t mean it like that. Jon knows the situation better.” </p><p>“I know,” Martin says. “But you’re my partner, too.”</p><p>There’s no immediate response except for Gerry’s cheek against the side of his head, and Martin uses the silence to steady his breathing. </p><p>The door to the apartment opens, and Jon calls out over the jingle of keys and the rustle of his jacket. “I’m sorry I’m home so late, the conference call just <em>wouldn’t end</em>—What happened?” The exhaustion in Jon’s tone is immediately overwritten by concern, and Martin looks up to find Jon frozen in the entrance to the kitchen. </p><p>“Nothing—” Martin tries, the response a default reaction. </p><p>Jon and Gerry click their tongues in an incredibly similar way, and it would be funnier if Martin didn’t still feel like shit. “What happened?” Jon tries again, this time directing his question to Gerry as the other man steps away from the embrace. </p><p>“He got a voicemail,” Gerry explains, taking the cup from Martin’s hands and moving to put it in the sink. </p><p>Jon’s brow twitches into a frown of not-quite-understanding. </p><p>“From my mom,” Martin finishes, and the confusion clears before proceeding straight on to an even deeper frown. “I didn’t listen to the whole thing.” </p><p>“But you listened to enough.” Jon crosses the distance between them, and he places a hand on the crook of Martin’s neck to anchor himself as he reaches up for a kiss. “Do you need to talk?” </p><p>“Not now. Maybe later.” Martin accepts a second kiss from Jon and a second cup of water from Gerry. “Sorry.” </p><p>“Don’t be. Sometimes moms can be shit.” Gerry crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against the counter. </p><p>Martin wants to say something—to defend her, perhaps—but as soon as he takes a breath, the words wither in his throat and his shoulders slump. So instead he manages, “Thank you.” </p><p>“Of course,” Jon says as Gerry gives his foot a reassuring nudge. </p><p>“What do you want for dinner?” Gerry pulls out his mobile and waves it in the space between them. “We’ll get whatever you want.” </p><p>“Oh… No, it’s okay—”</p><p>Gerry’s sigh is so staged that even in his anxious state, Martin can’t help but smile at the theatrics. “Martin, let me spoil you, yeah?”  </p><p>“I interrupted you when you were going out—whatever you had in mind is fine—”</p><p>“The two of you! You’re both the worst!” Gerry works his fingers back through his hair, tugging at the long strands. “Jon does the same thing. Did you two bond over being so incredibly stubborn?” </p><p>“I’m not stubborn, just indecisive?” Martin offers with a shrug. </p><p>“I am <em>not</em> stubborn,” Jon says, stubbornly. </p><p>Martin laughs at this. “You are literally the most stubborn person I know.” </p><p>Gerry points an accusing finger in Jon’s face. “You’re stubborn and you do things just to be contrary.” </p><p>“I’ll have you know…” he starts, though it peters out with very little force behind it. </p><p>“Jonathan Sims, you got your lip pierced because your grandmother said you couldn’t have a tattoo.” </p><p>Blustering, Jon’s hands flap at his sides before crossing defensively over his chest. “That wasn’t the <em>only</em> reason.” </p><p>Martin perks up a bit at this new bit of Jon lore. “You had your lip pierced, too?” </p><p>Gerry grins, tongue playing with his own piercing, despite the withering glare from Jon. “He had <em>two</em>.” He lifts a hand and taps two fingers to his lips—though he does it in such a way that is <em>definitely</em> a rude gesture and earns him Jon’s bony elbow in the gut. “Snakebite.” </p><p>“Really?” Martin tries to imagine it, using the Jon standing in the kitchen before him as a starting point for the mental image. It doesn’t work. </p><p>Jon sighs, resigned. “The scars from the piercings are still noticeable if you look for them.” </p><p>Martin lifts an eyebrow and tucks the tips of his fingers beneath Jon’s chin. “May I?” </p><p>There’s the slightest nod of Jon’s head, and he submits himself to being guided by Martin’s touch. </p><p>He tilts Jon’s face up towards the light, taking a moment to simply enjoy the fine-boned features. His thumb traces the thin lower lip until he identifies the two faint pale marks amidst the scattered freckles. They stand out against Jon’s dark skin, and Martin wonders how, despite all the time he’s spent staring at Jon’s lips both before and during their relationship, he never noticed them before. </p><p>The mental image resolves a little, but still not enough. </p><p>Gerry straightens upright, smacking a fist into the palm of his other hand. “Oh! I have pictures!” </p><p>“What?” Martin asks, delighted by this prospect. </p><p>“What?” Jon grumbles, but doesn’t pull away from Martin’s grip. </p><p>“Yeah, some of the stuff I’ve brought back after going through my mother’s storage.” He looks to Martin and gives an enticing grin. “I’m going to go grab them.” Gerry shuffles past, but not before giving both Jon and Martin a kiss on the cheek. </p><p>Martin watches him go, letting his thumb continue the lazy outline of Jon’s lips until Jon reaches up to grab his wrist. He turns back, studying the concern in Jon’s expression. “We can tell him no if it makes you uncomfortable,” Martin says, even though he would really love to see more pictures of Jon from when he was younger. The few from Georgie weren’t enough to make up for the fact that it was such a big span of their lives that Martin wasn’t a part of. So much of Jon and Gerry that he doesn’t know, and is desperate to learn. </p><p>“What?” Jon repeats, focus coming back into place as he picks up on the conversation. “Oh. No, that. That’s fine. It’s embarrassing, but it was years ago.” He shakes his head and presses his thumb to the pulse point on Martin’s wrist, then smooths it out over his palm. “You. Are you alright?” </p><p>This time, the answers get tangled in his mouth. The gut instinct to say <em>I’m fine</em>, the crippling anxiety begging him to say <em>I’m not</em>. The need to be honest, because he’s better than <em>not yet</em> and almost at <em>I will be</em>. </p><p>Jon must interpret whatever expression is on his face as an answer, and lifts his free hand to smooth across the back of Martin’s neck. “You let us know if there is anything you need, won’t you?” </p><p>“Hypocrite,” Martin says, though there’s no real venom behind it. </p><p>Jon sighs and rolls his eyes, but Martin still has his fingers against Jon’s lips and can feel the smile curling beneath them. “We’re not talking about me right now.” </p><p>“I think you’d find that we are,” Martin teases, easily side-stepping the concern. Jon lets him, and he’s more than thankful. “You and your snakebite piercings that you somehow <em>failed</em> to tell me, and left out of any of the pictures that you’ve shown me until this point.” </p><p>“I didn’t have them for that long. And I don’t think they looked that good on me.” </p><p>From the sitting room, Gerry grunts as he drops onto the couch with his laptop. “Is he telling you lies, Martin?” </p><p>“Something about how he doesn’t think they looked good.” Martin grins and kisses Jon’s furrowed brow. </p><p>“Prepare to see how <em>wrong</em> he is.” Gerry pats the cushion next to him as he kicks his legs up on the coffee table. </p><p>Martin looks to Jon, biting his lip and trying not to look <em>too</em> hopeful. </p><p>Jon gives a cursory wave of his hand. “Don’t let me stop you.” </p><p>“If you said no I would.” </p><p>The expression softens, and Jon slips his hand into Martin’s to give it a gentle squeeze. “I know.” </p><p>Martin kisses him again because he can’t help it, then leads Jon over into the sitting room. He plops onto the couch alongside Gerry, whose arm immediately curls around his shoulders. Jon slips in on the other side, batting away Gerry’s hand when he tries to ruffle Jon’s hair. </p><p>The laptop gets deposited in his lap. “Tadaa,” Gerry says as he cards his fingers back through Martin’s hair. The motion is soothing, tamping down on the final few frayed edges of his anxiety. “Please enjoy, at both of our expense.” </p><p>He begins to tap through the pictures, absorbing this version of Jon—younger than the images from Georgie, a softness that belies the quiet boy beneath the loud makeup and clothes. There’s a lot of other people in the pictures, and Gerry and Jon take turns trying to remember who any of them are, what might have happened to them in the intervening years. </p><p>There’s an intimacy to some of the pictures that makes Martin’s chest ache, but then he comes back to the present to Jon on one side of him—elbow against the back of the couch to lean his head against, the other hand on Martin’s thigh—Gerry on the other—fingers still working through Martin’s hair, his chin on Martin’s shoulder—and the distance doesn’t seem so daunting.     </p><p>And then there’s the first of Jon with the piercings and <em>damn</em>. </p><p>Martin doesn’t even realize he said that out loud until Gerry starts laughing so hard he has to lean on Martin to keep himself upright. </p><p>“Oh, it’s hotter than I remember,” Gerry says despite the nearly-audible eye-roll from Jon. “Who is this man and can I have his number?” </p><p>The hooked grin that Martin recognizes on sight curls around the two piercings, making the expression sharper. The photo version of Jon was caught with one of them half-between his teeth, like he had wanted to bite his lip and forgot the ring was there. He’s looking to the side, laughing at someone out of sight of the camera. </p><p>The next few are all sequential still-frames of Jon realizing his picture is being taken and flipping the camera off, and current-Jon sighs. “I was such a little shit.” </p><p>“I don’t think we would have got on at all,” Martin confesses, scrolling through the rest of the photos. “I mean, I still would have found you unfairly hot, but also incredibly insufferable.” </p><p>Jon snorts and shakes his head. “We still didn’t get on when we first met.” </p><p>“Well, whose fault was that?” Martin glances at Jon, who at least manages a chastised expression. </p><p>Gerry takes back the laptop when the photos loop back to the beginning. “If you told either of us that one day, Jon would end up in a sweater vest and a nine-to-five, I think we might have died laughing.” He clicks through the first few photos again before shutting the laptop and setting it aside. Gerry leans across and pulls at the collar of said sweater vest. “I still don’t believe it.” </p><p>Martin’s hands twitch in his lap, but he doesn’t say anything. </p><p>“Things happened,” Jon says demurely, trying to untangle Gerry’s fingers, but it only results in him getting pulled in so Gerry can kiss him properly. “It’s not all that bad.” </p><p>“I suppose not,” Gerry says with a sigh, sitting back upright. “You somehow managed to snag an incredible boyfriend out of it.” </p><p>It takes a solid few seconds before realization clicks in Martin’s brain. “You mean me?” </p><p>Jon, for some reason, has an expression that’s a mix of embarrassed and chuffed. He avoids Martin’s gaze, rubbing awkwardly at his eyebrow and studying the corner of the coffee table with sudden fascination. </p><p>“You have to admit, Jon has <em>great</em> tastes,” Gerry teases. </p><p>Martin turns to look at Gerry, and a wobbly smile tugs at his lips. “Oh. I guess so, huh?” </p><p>Gerry’s grin softens, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Martin’s mouth. “Like I said: you’re pretty incredible.” </p><p>Martin honestly has no idea how to respond, though he knows that he’s blushing—he always does when either of them give him this level of attention, even in the privacy of their own home. </p><p>He’s saved from any further awkward fumbling when Gerry pushes himself to his feet and starts to shuffle back towards the kitchen. “I wasn’t kidding about losing the sweater vest though, Jon. You wear the stodgy librarian look well, but it’s a <em>Friday night</em>. At least unbutton your collar or <em>something</em>.” </p><p>“I got a little sidelined walking through the door,” Jon replies defensively, but concedes in unbuttoning the cuffs and rolling up the sleeves.  </p><p>“No, no no, come on. Listen, I’m going to go order in some food, and then we’re going to get drunk on tea toddies like grandmas, and we’re all going to go to bed at a reasonable hour before unlike you office job blokes, I have work in the morning.” Gerry tugs uselessly at Jon’s hand, though the other man stubbornly remains seated and still manages to roll up that sleeve. He gives up with a sigh and lets the hand drop. “Martin, please convince our dear boyfriend to strip by the time I come back.” </p><p>“I make no promises.” Martin leans back into the couch as Jon and Gerry flip each other parting rude gestures, and Jon ends the conversation with a childish kick at Gerry’s ankles. </p><p>Jon huffs, pulling his hair out of the half-bun and raking his fingers back through it. </p><p>“You don’t have to defend the sweater vest.” </p><p>Jon fiddles with the collar of said vest before reaching back and tugging it off over his head. “I like them,” he says when he emerges, hair sticking up at odd angles from the static.</p><p>“Oh?” Martin can’t help himself, and lifts a hand to let his fingers brush the strands behind one ear. </p><p>“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been dressing like an old man for years before I met you, despite the way Gerry makes it sound.” </p><p>Martin shrugs, continuing his idle study of the way his fingers play through Jon’s hair. “It’s just… sometimes it sounds like you miss being that…” </p><p>“Goth?” </p><p>“<em>Reckless</em> person you were. When you were with Gerry, before.” </p><p>Jon starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, almost acting on auto-pilot. “Like I said: Things happened, and I made choices. And one of those was fashion choices.” He snorts and shrugs out of the button-down, leaving himself in just an undershirt and his slacks. “Fishnet <em>anything</em> is not comfortable.” </p><p>A small laugh escapes Martin, and he picks up the sweater vest to begin the idle process of folding it up. “You know, this is my favorite of your vests. The color looks good on you.” </p><p>Jon gives him a look out of the corner of one eye as he starts to stand up. “Are you saying that because it’s the one you got me for our first Christmas together?” </p><p>“No—”</p><p>“The same way that cow mug I gave you is your favorite mug?” </p><p>Martin knows his ears are burning, but he tries to don the most offended expression he can manage. “I’ll have you know that I value all of my mugs equally.” </p><p>“Except for the cow one.” </p><p>It’s true, of course, because while it wasn’t the first gift Jon got him during the few months of their relationship at that point, it was the mug that was <em>Martin’s</em> when they were still living in separate apartments. </p><p>In lieu of a more convincing argument, Martin merely rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable.” </p><p>Jon moves to stand knee to knee with Martin. He leans in, one hand against the back of the couch by Martin’s head, and says, “And yet, somehow you still love me.” </p><p>If it’s a challenge, it’s one that Martin gladly meets—reaching up to cup Jon’s face in one hand. “Yeah. I do.”  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>my favorite thing about ot3 is that it implies a universe where Gerry is alive and all three of them get to be soft and have smooches. </p><p>Other things about my AU:<br/>- Jon &amp; Gerry met somewhere in their late teen years, but Gerry dropped out of contact during uni (around when his mom died)<br/>- you can pry the headcanon that jonny themechanisms was pre-archives jon from my cold dead hands i love it<br/>- Gerry is currently working on getting a legit library sciences degree and works part time somewhere<br/>- i haven't figured out where Jon works but I do still want him to work under Gertrude, and he met Martin at this job (they now work at different places)<br/>- Gerry is reintroduced into Jon's life when he just barges into "Aunt" Gertude's office one day and they're both just (SPIDER-MAN MEME POINTS AT ONE ANOTHER)"<br/>- that's it that's all I got</p></blockquote></div></div>
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